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Looking For Trouble |
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March 16 |
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(Published March 17) THE moon lights up the desert for miles around, as the Warrior pitches forward into a deep trough in the sand throwing those inside out of their seats. Then it rises again, the nose of the armoured car pointing towards the stars, and crests the ridge, plunging on across the sand. "Smudge," says a disembodied voice from the back, addressing the driver, "you owe me one for that, that hurt." Even with the help of the moon, a clear sky and the benefit of night sights, it is not always possible to predict the vagaries of the sand formations, the unexpected berms - small dunes which seem to appear from nowhere, like giant sleeping policemen - or the soft sand that sends the engine into overdrive, the vibration shuddering through those pressed tightly into the space inside. But in a couple of nights time, the moon will be full, and visibility will be at its best, enhanced by the night sights which amplify whatever light source they pick up, turning night into green-tinged day. A bombers' moon, they call it, and many of those with the British battle group camped out in the sand 25km from the Iraqi border believe that within a couple of nights the skies that are now so clear will be filled with US and British jets, hurtling towards targets at the other side of the border. If that happens, they will be followed by wave upon wave of tanks and other armoured vehicles, racing across the desert past the Kuwaiti oil fields and on over the border into Iraq. With war imminent, tonight they are honing their skills, ensuring that they can find their way to whatever targets they are given to attack and take. In the turret, commanding the armoured personnel carrier, is Lance Sergeant Mark Cole, of the Scots Guards, attached to 7 Platoon, B Company of the Black Watch. He stands up on his seat, head and shoulders above the open hatch, guiding the vehicle across the barren landscape as surely as if he were following road signs. In front of him is the unfortunate Smudge, driver Paul Smith, and behind him a space for seven rather bruised infantry soldiers. Tight and uncomfortable, the smell of diesel fumes and engine oil mingle in the warm air inside the turret and the body of the Warrior. The interior, lit by a dim red glow, is packed with dials, switches, gun sights, radio equipment and shells for the 30mm cannon mounted in the turret. The seat beside the vehicle commander is reserved for the gunner, who loads and fires the cannon or the chain-fed machine gun. They clamber on board over the front of the Warrior, taking care not to use the gun barrel as a support to avoid knocking its sights out of balance. Helmets and flak jackets protect them from the rigours of the ride and sand goggles keep out the dust picked up by the wind and thrown out by the tracks of vehicles in front. The Warrior accelerates, it takes the roughness of the terrain in its stride, its twin tracks ironing minor obstacles as it rolls forward. Ten foot up in the air in the turret, the 20kph at which it is travelling to avoid kicking up too much dust and blinding other vehicles, or drawing attention to itself seems fast, but it can go much quicker, its 17-litre engine propelling it across the desert at 40kph under normal conditions. Initially, on firm ground, the ride seems smooth but as it moves away from the camp in the area of Kuwaiti desert where Britain's 1st Armoured Division has made its home, the vibrations begin to shake the vehicle. In the driver's seat Smudge is using his night sight to pick a way across the sand, taking his instruction from Mark, whose task is to use a global positioning satellite device to navigate his way from checkpoint to checkpoint across an area of sand with no discernible landmarks in sight. They hit the first checkpoint spot on and swing right towards the next. On the horizon, the lights of the Kuwaiti oil fields are burning brightly, and beyond them is Iraq. Smudge uses the lights as a marker to navigate by, as Mark keeps up a constant stream of directions - right hand down, left hand down, on (straight ahead) - to guide them in. But what started as a gentle ride across the desert is becoming less comfortable by the moment. The turret is cramped and legs are forced into awkward positions as the body is tossed from side to side by the rolling of the vehicle. Dust and diesel fumes blow back into the eyes, hot and stinging, forcing those exposed to them to reach for their goggles for protection. The vibrations as the Warrior lurches across the soft sand are so strong they make the teeth chatter and the body shake. Suddenly, the nose of the vehicle drops away and it crashes down into the hollow between two small dunes, jarring every bone in the bodies of those inside. It tilts alarmingly, lurches sideways and then steadies itself, pitching up again and then back down. Mark is apologetic: "You can see how difficult it is to judge the terrain, even with the night sights, but at least it keeps everyone awake." For the hapless Smudge, there is a mild rebuke: "Steady, you know those berm lines are there." Those in the back, hot, crowded and unable to see what the others can see, are in an unenviable position. Bumped and jolted around, they know that at any moment the Warrior could stop and over the radio will come the orders to jump out of the back and engage in enemy they have not seen and whose strengths they do not know. Tonight, a few bumps and bruises aside, the exercise has been a success and the 25km circuit is completed without further incident. But unless there is a diplomatic miracle, they will travel the same distance again very soon, only this time it will take them across the border, and on into Iraq and war.
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(Original copy) The moon lights up the desert for miles around, as the Warrior pitches forward into a deep trough in the sand throwing those inside out of their seats, then rises again, the nose of the armoured car pointing towards the stars and crests the ridge, plunging on across the sand. “Smudge,” says a disembodied voice from the back, addressing the driver, “you owe me one for that, that hurt.” Even with the help of the moon, a clear sky and the benefit of night sights, it is not always possible to predict the vagaries of the sand formations, the unexpected berns – small dunes which seem to appear from nowhere, like giant sleeping policemen – or the soft sand that sends the engine into overdrive, the vibration shuddering through those pressed tightly into the space inside. But in a couple of nights time, the moon will be full, and visibility will be at its best, enhanced by the night sights which amplify what ever light source they pick up, turning night into green-tinged day. A bombers’ moon, they call it, and many of those with the British battle group camped out in the sand 25 kilometres from the Iraqi border believe that within a couple of nights the skies that are now so clear will be filled with US and British jets, hurtling towards targets at the other side of the border. If that happens, they will be followed by wave upon wave of tanks and other armoured vehicles, racing across the desert past the Kuwaiti oil fields and on over the border into Iraq. With war imminent, tonight they are honing their skills, ensuring that they can find their way to whatever targets they are given to attack and take. In the turret, commanding the armoured personnel carrier, is Lance Sergeant Mark Cole, of the Scots Guards, attached to 7 Platoon, B Company of the Black Watch. He stands up on his seat, head and shoulders above the open hatch, guiding the vehicle across the barren landscape as surely as if he were following road signs. In front of him is the unfortunate Smudge, driver Paul Smith, and behind him a sace for seven rather bruised infantry soldiers. Tight and uncomfortable, the smell of diesel fumes and engine oil mingle in the warm air inside the turret and the body of the Warrior. The interior, lit by a dim red glow, is packed with dials, switches, gun sights, radio equipment and shells for the 30 millimetre cannon mounted in the turret. The seat beside the vehicle commander is reserved for the gunner, who loads ad fires the cannon or the chain-fed machine gun. They clamber on board over the front of the Warrior, taking care not to use the gun barrel as a support to avoid knocking its sights out of balance. Helmets and flak jackets protect them from the rigours of the ride and sand goggles keep out the dust picked up by the wind and thrown out by the tracks of vehicles in front. Sometimes between hatches on top of the turret are pulled shut, commander and gunner dropping down quickly onto the seats in the base of the turret. As the Warrior accelerates, it takes the roughness of the terrain in its stride, its twin tracks ironing out minor obstacles as it rolls forward. Ten foot up in the air in the turret the 20 kilometres an hour at which it is travelling to avoid kicking up too much dust and blinding other vehicles or drawing attention to itself seems fast, but it can go much quicker, its 17 litre engine propelling it across the desert at 40 kilometres an hour under normal conditions. Initially, on firm ground, the ride seems smooth but as it moves away from the camp in the area of Kuwaiti desert where Britain’s 1st Armoured Division have made its home, the vibrations begin to shake the vehicle. In the driver’s seat. Smudge is using his night sight to pick a way across the sand, taking his instruction from Mark, whose task is to use a global positioning satellite device to navigate his way from checkpoint to checkpoint across an area of sand with no discernible landmarks in sight. They hit the first checkpoint spot on and swing right towards the next target. On the horizon, the lights of the Kuwaiti oil fields are burning brightly, and beyond them is Iraq. Smudge uses the lights as a marker to guide him towards the next checkpoint as Mark keeps up a constant stream of directions: right hand down, left hand down, on [straight ahead] to guide them in. But what started a gentle ride across the desert is becoming less comfortable by the moment. The turret is cramped and legs are forced into awkward positions as the body is tossed from side to side by the rolling of the vehicle. Dust and diesel fumes blow back into the eyes, hot and stinging, forcing those exposed to them to reach for their goggles for protection. The vibrations as the Warrior lurches across the soft sand are so strong they make the teeth chatter and the body shake. Suddenly, the nose of the vehicle drops away and it crashed down into the hollow between two small dunes, jarring every bone in the body of those inside. It tilts alarmingly, yaws sideways and then steadies itself, pitching up again and then back down. Mark is apologetic: "You can see how difficult it is to judge the terrain, even with the night sights, but at least it keeps everyone awake,” he says. For the hapless Smudge, there is a mild rebuke; “Steady, you know those bern lines are there.” Those in the back, hot, crowded and unable to see what the others can see, are in an unenviable position. Bumped and jolted around, they know that at any moment the Warrior could stop and over the radio will come the orders to jump out of the back and engage in enemy they have not seen and whose strengths they do not know. Tonight, a few bumps and bruises aside, the exercise has been a success and the 25 kilometre circuit is completed without further incidents. But unless there is a diplomatic miracle, they will travel the same distance again very soon, only this time it will take them across the border, and on into Iraq and war.
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(Original news copy) British troops preparing to go into action against the Iraqi army have taken delivery of a powerful new weapon which they believe could play a decisive role in overcoming any opposition they encounter. The FN Para Minimi 5.56 millimetre light machine gun has already seen service with the Royal Marines and the Parachute Regiment but yesterday was the first time it had been issued to the men of the 7th Armoured Brigade, better known as the Desert Rats, who will form the main thrust of any British involvement in a fresh military campaign. Capable of firing 820 rounds of hardened ammunition a minute, it is regarded as a far more potent weapon than the old general purpose machine gun which has been in service since the 1960s. Lighter and smaller than the GPMG it can be fired from a standing, kneeling or prone position and troops test-firing it for the first time on a range near the Iraqi border yesterday said they were delighted to take delivery of the new weapon. After firing off a series of rounds to calibrate his weapon, Private Stuart Dunning, of the Black Watch, was an enthusiastic convert to the Minimi. "We've had a demonstration of it before from the Marines but this was the first time I've fired it. You could run around with this and fire it off, which you couldn't do with the GPMG, and that's a big advantage for us. "It also fires steel core rounds and they can penetrate so I think we all feel pretty confident with this." Private Kristofer Smith, also of the Black Watch, said he was convinced it was the best weapon available to them. "Everyone's been after these and now we've tried it it's pretty good," he said. "You don't get a big kick from it so you can fire it standing up and that's important if we're moving forward." There has been controversy about another of the army's main weapons, the SA-80 rifle, with complaints from soldiers about is reliability and reports of frequent jamming in desert conditions. But the SA-80 has recently undergone a multi-million pound overhaul and senior army weapons instructors report that they are satisfied with its performance, blaming any problems now on poor maintenance by the troops using the rifle. The issue of the Minimi in time for any invasion of Iraq has further boosted confidence amongst British troops in the weapon at their disposal. Warrant Officer QMSI Michael Lynch, one of the instructors given the task of familiarising the men with the Minimi, said the new weapon was expected to be highly effective in subduing opposition from Iraqi troops. "We just received them today," he said, "but that should not present any problems. It is similar to any other weapon, and the men are not stupid. They get good instructions from small arms school experts passing on information and this is all about getting them used to it. "They will come away from the range today confident in their ability to use it. They will go back and talk about it, they'll get the weapon out and go over it and that's how they'll get used to it. That's the infanteers' trade." With signs everywhere that war is imminent, WO Lynch said he was confident that if it did come to military action, the British battle group now have the equipment it needed to do its job. "If we go to war, which looks likely, these lads are going to have to get out of a Warrior [armoured vehicle] and start using these weapons and if you look at them trying them on the ranges today, you wouldn't want to be on the end of that. "We are very adept at keeping our soldiers alive and the way we do that is to keep the enemy's head down. If it does happen, the Black Watch will shower itself in glory as they always have." Elsewhere in Northern Kuwait, preparations continue for war, with British troops receiving the self-injecting combination pens which they will use if they become victims of a chemical attack, the arrival of hundreds of tons of combat ammunition and the order to US troops to unpack their chemical warfare suits. At the northern-most camp at the Iraqi border, US Cobra helicopters carried out exercises designed to avoid friendly fire incidents and paratroopers completed a series of jumps to the north of the camp.
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